Remnants of the Payday Crew: Ultimate Edition
by LogicalWriter
Summary: After a heist gone wrong, Dallas, Chains, Wolf, and Houston find themselves in another world. Meanwhile, Torchwick is going to need some help if he wants to collect enough dust to keep Cinder happy, and it looks like he's found just the guys to do it. Hey, everyone needs a Payday, even in another world. Adopted from Nemo the Unknown.


**Hello there my fanfiction readers! My name is LogicalWriter, and you might be wondering, "Why the fuck is this person re-uploading someone else's story?". Well to answer that question, some people might know that Nemo the Unknown's story, Remnants of the Payday Crew, was announced dead, and being a fan of that story, I contacted him, and asked if I could adopt his story and complete the saga. He said yes, so here is the result of that! Now for the first 2-3 chapters will be kept pretty much the same as the original, with minor edits (as in fixing the plot holes), and I think the opening is pretty solid. Also, Nemo, if you are reading this, can you PM me with a rough outline on what you planned with the story, as I want to pick your brain and see what you originally wanted to do with this story so I can get ideas or something. Enough chatting, everyone grab yourself a cup of tea, and enjoy the story.**

* * *

Remnants of the Payday Crew

"I got a bad fuckin' feeling about this..." Houston muttered as he checked his gear one last time. The other three men sitting in the cramped van next to him couldn't help but agree. Whenever Vlad was involved in a heist, it was a safe bet that things would get weird. It didn't help that he also had a tendency to tell the crew the bare minimum of what they needed to know. Whether it was busting up a mall, tracking down goats, or heisting nuclear warheads out of a secure facility, If any of the contractors was going to inadvertently get the crew killed, it was Vlad.

"Least it's only a couple of guards..." Wolf replied, breaking Houston's train of thought.

"Not many guards doesn't mean light security." Chains shot back, uncharacteristically quiet. He had a point. It was always a pain to have a heist go off without a hitch only to get caught by a hidden camera or stray civilian.

"Don't worry brother," Dallas put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him, "I got your back." They didn't always see eye-to-eye, but they were still brothers, and Houston knew he could count on him in a tricky situation.

"Alright guys listen up," Bain's voice crackled over the radio. "This should be a pretty simple heist, but that doesn't mean it'll be easy. Those 'Zeal Team' assholes make GenSec's Elites look like rent-a-cops, so let's go over the plan one last time." There was a pause as Bain pulled up information, the tapping on his keyboard audible over the radio, "Vlad's hired us to steal some sort of prototype device. Wouldn't tell me what it was, just said 'you'll know it when you see it'." The entire crew took a moment to say a mental 'fuck you' to Vlad before Bain continued on. "Anyway, we're headed to a small lab owned by DARPA. I'm sure that means whatever Vlad has us going after, it's not something we wanna fuck around with, so just be careful."

* * *

Bain reclined in his seat as he waited for the heisters to reach their destination. He had already set up all of his surveillance, and decided to take a few minutes to look back on whatever information he could get pulled up on the lab the crew was about to hit. Apparently, it was a small lab owned by the government, under the control of DARPA. There was frustratingly little for him to dredge up, though. What little he could find seemed to suggest that they were researching 'new technologies for streamlining logistical support'. Which was a fancy way of saying shipping and transport.

Still, Bain had managed to crack into part of the local intranet, and what he saw didn't make any sense. There were all kinds of complicated equations and problems, and a lot of them seemed to be related to physics, or some other devilishly complicated and technical science. It reminded him of that lab Jimmy had hired the crew to hit, but not blatantly evil. He was expecting a similar amount of resistance too, especially with the appearance of "Zeal Team" at some of the crew's more recent heists. If the DHS was getting involved, then maybe it was time to move on from DC. _Oh well, _he thought, _one step at a time, I suppose. _He needed to get his head back in the game, the gang was just about ready to start off the heist.

* * *

As the van started pulling up to its destination, Houston performed one last quick check of his weapons. He wielded a Compact-5, and looked it over one last time to ensure it was locked and loaded; more out of habit than anything else. He also kept a pistol with him, for emergencies, which he checked as well. Satisfied with his own gear, he checked at the other three members of the crew, and what they were carrying. Chains had the heaviest guns, of course. He carried a KSP, which he was currently loading a box of ammo into. He cut an imposing figure in the Improved Combined Tactical Vest armored suit he wore, which some of the crew had taken to calling the 'Dozer Suit'. Houston had no idea just how he managed to carry so much weight. He had tried wearing that thing himself, once, and he had gotten winded just walking around the safe house. Houston preferred to just sick with the classic suit and not get shot in the first place. Wolf and Dallas both wore Combined Tactical Vest armor, with the former using a Locomotive Shotgun and GL40, and the latter having an AMR-16 rifle, though Dallas usually preferred to use his Bronco. Houston's thoughts were interrupted when Bain came back over the radio.

"30 seconds til you arrive, get your masks on, Clowns." The four men obeyed, and the van began pulling to a stop outside the lab.

"Everyone on my six, let's go." Chains spoke up, opening the back of the van and jumping out as he did. Dallas and Wolf stepped out behind him, and Houston followed in the rear. They quickly ran ran to the front door and stepped in, as Dallas stepped up to take control of the handful of civilians in the lobby. There was a singular guard up front, just some regular street cop, like the ones that were employed all over the city, and Dallas dispatched him quickly with a single shot.

"Get down on the ground!" Wolf shouted at the three or four civilians as the rest of the crew moved to tie them up, to make sure they couldn't alert the cops the moment the crew turned their backs. With all of the civilians up front taken care of, the crew split up to begin searching for whatever device Vlad seemed so hell-bent on acquiring.

* * *

Wolf volunteered to check the first lab the crew came across, and after picking a simple lock, stepped inside to check for the device. Inside, however, there seemed to only be whiteboards and tables covered with various scientific papers, all of them displaying various complex diagrams and equations. He didn't understand most of it, but there were some weird looking diagrams that reminded him of a sci-fi B-movie. Besides that, though, it was clear from just a quick scan that whatever they were hunting was not here, and he stepped back outside, only managing to take a couple of steps down the hall before Bain alerted the team over the radio.

"Heads up crew, police radio's lighting up. You've got 30 seconds before first responders arrive." He cursed, and changed direction, heading back towards the entrance in order to try to slow down the police.

* * *

Chains split from the group not long after Wolf, and headed down a hall with a sign labeled 'Materials Research'. He didn't think that whatever device they were hunting for was likely to be that way, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to be sure. Following the hall, he came to a sealed door, which Chains was able to quickly force open. After finally breaching the door, Chains entered what appeared to be a lab, with several frightened looking scientists cowering behind the various tables scattered around. Looking around, Chains noticed one of them with a phone to his ear who was looking right back at him. _Must've heard us coming, _he figured. It was clear that the scientist knew he had been spotted as his face quickly turned to a look of pure terror. He dropped the phone, and began scrambling backwards, gibbering in terror. Chains cursed and began moving towards him, making sure to crush the phone underfoot on his way over, before stopping right before the man. He was sobbing at this point, pleading with Chains to spare him. Before he could make too much of a racket, Chains simply kicked him in the face, leaving him with a broken nose while knocking him out. With that taken care of, Chains spun about, and brought his weapon to bear.

"On the ground. Now." That was all he had to say, and the scientists complied, knowing full well what the unspoken 'or else' was. With the civilians taken care of, Chains quickly began scanning the lab he was in for any sort of device that matched the one he was looking for, before being interrupted by Bain.

"Heads up crew, police radio's lighting up. You've got 30 seconds before first responders arrive." That wasn't good. Chains looked around and saw several canisters filled with some sort of glowing material of different colors. Together, they almost formed an entire rainbow. Not wanting to come back empty handed, but also not finding anything better, Chains pulled out a bag which he filled with the multi-colored canisters. It was heavy, like a the bag was filled with sand, limiting Chains to a fast walk as he left the lab, stopping only to shoot one last glare at the man who had alerted the cops before heading back up front to fight off the incoming police.

* * *

Dallas and Houston moved towards the very rear of the building, still searching for the device that Vlad wanted. Houston was muttering something about kicking Vlad's ass when Dallas held out a hand to stop him, while gesturing towards a door helpfully labeled as 'Prototype Testing Chambers'.

"Y'think that's what we're looking for?" Dallas turned to his younger brother and partner-in-crime.

"I sure as hell hope so…" Houston muttered in reply. The two brothers-in-arms moved forward, scanning each hall, doorway, and corner for any straggling guards or civilians that they hadn't already caught, until finally coming across a locked, heavily reinforced door, helpfully marked as 'Prototype Storage'.

"Well, ain't that helpful," Quipped Dallas, already getting to work setting up a drill in order to breach the room. Meanwhile, Houston took a moment to check all his gear, but was quickly interrupted by a warning from Bain, who informed them of incoming police. Houston could parse the underlying meaning in it, though: '_Hurry the fuck up and get whatever this piece of junk Vlad wants out of there'_, and he could agree with the sentiment. He just hoped Chains and Wolf could keep the front area locked down enough to keep an escape path open for them.

Minutes later, the drill finished its job and helpfully emitted a small beep to inform the heisters. Using a little bit of finesse and a lot of struggling, they managed to pry open the door and enter a small room with wires hanging from the ceiling in several spots, most of them plugged into a device on a pedestal in the center of the room.

"Is this it?" Houston questioned, sounding distinctly unimpressed by the small, gray, cylindrical device in front of them. It appeared to be hooked to several machines on both sides of the room, which were giving all kinds of readouts for statistics Houston didn't understand or care about. It seemed to have a small keypad on it, marked with the numbers zero through nine, along with a larger red button, which Houston could figure the purpose of pretty easily. Right next to the pad was a screen of about the same dimensions, which was blank at the moment. The area that corresponded with that field appeared empty, and Houston was looking over the strange device even more before a shout from Dallas snapped his attention back to reality.

"Well? We got the prototype, let's go!" Houston quickly disconnected all the wires and devices as quickly and safely as he could. It wouldn't do to find out that the crew couldn't get paid because they had delivered damaged goods. Houston pulled out a dark blue duffel bag, carefully placing the device inside and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Alright, let's get out of here. I still got a bad feeling…"

* * *

Back at the front of the building, things were not going well. Chains and Wolf had returned to the front of the building in order to fortify it for the coming assault, with Wolf setting out several mines that he carried for just such an occasion, and Chains simply dropping a brown bag filled with ammunition beside him for the rest of the crew to use. Both men had taken up a post behind a large desk in the lobby, it being the only real piece of cover in the entire room, and waited for for the first responders to arrive. Not moments later they did just that, and after a very short gunfight, four of D.C.'s finest lay dead or dying next to a pair of abandoned police cruisers, their sirens still wailing like Banshees. Minutes later, larger armored vans began pulling up, and disgorged their loads of elite SWAT officers. Chains noticed a few specialized enemies among them, primarily Tasers, Shields and the now ubiquitous Medics that had been deployed alongside the rank and file. Wolf was able to manage the more heavily armored enemies with a pair of auto turrets he had brought with him, spitting armor piercing shells at anyone who wasn't cut down by the combined firepower of the two outlaws. Finally, after several minutes of shooting, the squads of police pulled back to lick their wounds, having failed to seriously injure either man. Only a few moments later, the other two members of the crew joined their compatriots behind the desk, which by now had dozens of holes and pits taken out of it.

"You got the loot?" Questioned Chains, who was using the reprieve from the shooting to rearm and reload his weapon.

"Right here," Reassured Houston, who was preparing an ECM device as he scoped out the opposition. As he looked to the very rear of the force, his blood ran cold. He saw a group of black armored soldiers exiting the rear of the vehicle, their unique armor making it clear just who they were.

"Oh shit," Whispered Wolf, who had made the same realization, "ZEAL team…" That was bad news indeed. ZEAL had shown up on their last few heists, and they were terrifyingly effective. What was done was done, though, and the crew still had a prototype to steal. Both sides had come prepared for a fight, and a fight was what they were going to get. As the first ZEALs came to the head of the crowd, with officers of all sorts lined up at a makeshift barricade outside the lab, the four outlaws, brothers in arms until the end, prepared for a fight unlike any other. As the men made their final preparations, Bain spoke up over the radio.

"Shit, guys, they've got the entire area locked down. The escape van ain't getting in there, never mind getting back ou-" His voice was drowned out as an someone fired the first shot, signalling an end to the standoff, and the beginning of another wave of SWAT. "-et up to the roof, I should be able to get you guys out of there." Bain finished. The heisters had heard enough to know what to do, there was just one little problem. Or rather, one very large and heavily armed problem. The police were storming in from all sides, and the four men were very quickly becoming overwhelmed. Thinking quickly, Houston sprang the trap he had set minutes earlier, and hit a button on the side of the ECM he had placed. Immediately, he could hear a deep, pulsing warble as the device began emitting a feedback signal to all radios in range. Several of the officers were incapacitated almost immediately, clutching their ears in pain. The crew took advantage of the opening they had created, and began moving back into the building to find a way to the roof. They were pursued by only a few police officers, either too disciplined or too bull-headed to be affected by the feedback, who were all firing wildly at the retreating heisters. One lucky shooter managed to land a handful of shots on Chains, who simply shrugged them off. One shot managed to graze the bag he was carrying, however, ripping a hole large enough for one of the canisters to slip out, and roll along on the floor.

"Grenade!" An officer screamed, as the pursuing men struggled to slow down and turn around to get away from the supposedly explosive device, some of whom slipped rather comically trying to spin around so quickly. Chains turned to watch the spectacle, and smiled under his mask at the idea that formed in his mind.

"Surprise, motherfuckers," He muttered, tossing a frag grenade to land near the canister, which glowed a soft blue. The SWAT officers that had come to realize that the canister was not, in fact a grenade, scrambled for cover once again as the real thing rolled to rest right next to it.

Chains had already turned to catch up with the crew when an unfamiliar sound called his attention back to the pursuing officers. Instead of the usual dull thump and concussive wave that usually accompanied a detonating grenade, Chains heard a crack, like an over pressurized soda can bursting, followed by a crackling sound not unlike the one that ice makes when tossed into water. As he turned to investigate, Chains was greeted by the sight of an entire wall of ice covering the hallway, with several SWAT officers partially or completely frozen within.

"Oookay, I don't know how you did that, Chains, but damn if it didn't help," Whispered Bain, who was watching the entire situation unfold over the cameras.

"Jesus…" Chains breathed, before continuing on. He could ponder why and how that had happened later, when they were out of danger.

* * *

When Chains finally caught up with the rest of the crew, he was greeted by an unnerving sight. Wolf was laid out on the floor at the base of the stairs, with a very painful looking bullet wound on his side. Houston was frantically trying to stem the stream of blood as Dallas took cover at the top of the stairs based on what Chains could hear, taking potshots at the cops on the roof, trying to keep the rest of the team out of the line of fire. Despite his best efforts, though, he was having a difficult time taking so many police with just what he had, and in exasperation, began shouting.

"Dammit Wolf! Get off your ass, and get up here!" He commanded. Wolf, out of either fear or force of will, summoned the strength to get back on his feet, still bleeding from the wound. It didn't look that bad, in Chains' opinion. He had seen men survive worse in the military, and Dallas certainly had a way with words that let him make it _very _clear that he was not a man to be fucked with.

With Wolf heading upstairs to help fight off the cops and the hallway leading back where they came from blocked off by that wall of ice, Chains and Houston took a moment to rest. They scanned the room, in case there might be any wandering eyes to watch them, before taking off their masks for a moment, sucking in the fresh air. Chains leaned against a wall while he caught his breath, while Houston simply crouched down in a sort of stretch. With their heads cleared, and the hallway mostly quiet, save for the occasional burst of gunfire from up above, the two criminals noticed a sound that seemed out of place.

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep_

Both men looked at each other, wondering where that sound could be coming from. A quick search revealed that it was coming from the loot bag that Houston had tossed to the side after Wolf had been injured. The loot bag that held the device that was the whole reason the crew was here. The potentially _very fragile_ device. Both men scrambled over to the device and pulled it out of the bag it had been secured in, checking it over for any outside damage. Thankfully, the device seemed fully functional. Rather, the beeping the men had heard was coming from the screen on the side of the device, which was now displaying the phrase '_Transporter activated, Input Coordinates'. _Evidently, Houston's rough handling of the device had accidentally activated it.

"Hmm… better not mess with that, guys," Offered Bain, who was currently watching the two men through a nearby security camera. "Who knows what, or where, it'll transport if it goes off. You probably just hit that big button on it when you put it down. Try hitting it again." Chains and Houston looked at each other, but, not seeing any more reasonable options, followed Bain's instructions. After a short rock-paper-scissors, during which Bain admonished them for being childish, Houston reached out a finger, and pressed the large red button. The screen cleared after a moment, and Houston let out the breath he had been holding, before lighting back up with new information.

_'No coordinates input. Selecting last destination'._

Below that, the device was counting down from one minute.

"Shit, shit!" Was all Houston could yell, as the numbers continued to count down.

49…

48...

47…

"What's going on down there? Is the device alright?" Dallas yelled down from above, barely heard over the gunfire, even with the radio.

"It's… It's doin' something!" Was all Houston could say, too unsure of the situation to confidently say anything more.

* * *

Dallas was not one to panic, but shit was going downhill fast. After ZEAL had shown up, the crew had been forced to abandon the original plan, and now they were trying to clear a way for the helicopter to pick them up. Except there were even more cops on the roof. So now the team was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and it looked like they didn't have a way out this time. Of course, there was always more that could go wrong.

"It's… It's doin' something!" He heard Houston shout over the radio. Fucking brilliant.

"Wolf, c'mon, let's go see what's up with them," Dallas commanded Wolf, before adding on, "Don't forget to leave them a little present." The Swede nodded in affirmation, pulling out several tripmines that he carried, sticking them at strategic positions behind doorways and in the stairwell.

As the other half of the team reached the bottom of the stairs, they came across the panicked forms of Houston and Chains, trying to undo whatever had activated the device originally. As the former two approached the device, Dallas could make out a countdown on its screen, now showing the number 10.

* * *

9…

8…

7…

Chains never really bought into the whole "Honorable Sacrifice" thing when he was in the military. If you were stupid or unlucky enough to be near a live grenade, then you got what you deserved. Despite all that, when the device's countdown hit five, Chains started moving, almost on instinct, to dive on top of the device to protect the rest of the crew. His armor would take most of the force. Besides, everyone knew Chains was invincible.

3...

2…

Chains landed on top of the device, skidding a few feet over and startling the other men, who were investigating the possible bomb.

1…

There was a blinding flash, and an intense sensation of pressure and… Heat? Chains didn't know how to describe it. It was like when you held a piece of ice in your hand for so long that it started to feel like a burn. Chains simply tried to keep his eyes closed, and his body as stationary as possible.

Eventually, the light faded, and Chains was greeted with shouting in his ear.

"Guys? Chains! Dallas! Anyone?


End file.
